when the glitter fades
by thxndergirl
Summary: When all of this started, Henry remembers feeling invincible. / Aka, the angsty character study no one asked for.


**ahhh i finally finished this fic! i've literally had it sitting in the back of my brain for like weeks now but i actually sat down and wrote it today. it definitely went in a different direction than i had planned, but hey, you guys did say you wanted angst. fair warning, this does have darker themes, mentions of guns, violence, and minor injury–super vague and nothing graphic at all, but i thought i'd warn you because it is pretty significantly different from the actual tone of the show. because of that, it's also pretty ooc despite being a character study, kind of like what henry danger would be if it wasn't a kids' show, i guess. anyway, i really hope you guys enjoy this. the title is from "from now on" from the greatest showman soundtrack.**

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When all of this started, Henry remembers feeling invincible.

He was only thirteen then, still in junior high, still young and full of that wide-eyed innocence and awe of the world. And when you're thirteen and someone hands you a mask and tells you to be a hero, it seems that simple. When you're thirteen and you're fighting beside one of the greatest superheroes of all time, someone you've looked up to your whole life, it feels like indestructibility could be a trait you pick up by association.

(It's not.)

It feels like nothing can touch you.

(It can.)

He used to forget that.

He doesn't anymore, but he used to, because at thirteen, he was so caught up in the action, in the lasers and the gadgets and the brightly colored costumes, that the bruises never seemed to hurt as much.

(Of course they didn't. When kids climb trees they only want to go higher, don't they? They don't notice the scrapes on their hands and their knees. They don't realize how far they could fall.)

He doesn't, either. Not, at least, until he's fifteen, and a supervillain breaks into his house and threatens his little sister's life. Not until he comes home too late one night to find his mother on the couch, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks and her eyes frantic with worry. Not until he has his hands tugged behind his back, a gun pointed at his chest, and he has the sudden, fleeting thought that _this could be it._

He doesn't die that night.

But he doesn't sleep, either; instead, he writes out seven letters and stuffs them under the false bottom in his desk drawer. All he can think about is everything he's never said. How he could've died without ever saying it.

He hugs his family a little tighter the next morning.

Of course, he knows the risks of his job. It's in the name itself, Kid _Danger, _and everything that comes his way is just another occupational hazard. It's just another part of being a sidekick.

(Never mind that it's _Kid _Danger. Never mind that he's still just a _kid, _and really, he shouldn't be in any danger at all.)

So he comes out swinging. He gets back up, every single time. He learns to carry his responsibility no matter how heavy it gets. He teaches himself how to use his mother's concealer to hide the bruises (and if Piper finds it odd the first time he offers to do her makeup, she doesn't say anything). He goofs off, finds ways to laugh even when he shouldn't be able to because he _has _to, or otherwise he thinks he might break.

And sometimes, that doesn't work.

Sometimes, a villain sends thugs to his house. Sometimes, he loses his powers. Sometimes, the people that he cares about the most end up in the most danger and there's _nothing he can do about it._

He starts sleeping on the couch. If anyone asks, he'll say it's because he fell asleep watching TV or he couldn't get comfortable in his room but really, it's because from the couch he can watch the door. He can make sure no one gets to his family without going through him. That much, he can do.

So maybe he gets a little paranoid.

Maybe he lets Kid Danger bleed a little too much into Henry Hart. Maybe it's more than the broken arm and the limping and the dark circles, maybe it's the way his heart picks up when his watch beeps, or the way he holds Piper's hand a little too tightly when they round corners at night, or the way he wakes up from dreams of blood with the scream of someone's name on his lips.

Maybe he forgets where the line between his worlds is supposed to be drawn.

But then-it doesn't always matter. He can be Henry Hart and train in the Man Cave; he can be Kid Danger and joke around with his friends over takeout. He can come in through Jasper or Charlotte's window after a rough patrol and fall asleep next to one of them or sometimes squished in between, and he can be anyone he wants. He can protect his family with or without the mask.

Or, even if he can't, he _has _to.

Whether he's Henry Hart or Kid Danger, it's still his job. It's still his responsibility. It's still written in his career description to protect the citizens of Swellview, to put the lives of others before his own, to put up with the bruises and the nightmares and the constant fear because this is bigger than him.

He might be just a kid, but he's still a sidekick. He might not be invincible, but that doesn't mean he'll stop fighting.

Because when you're seventeen and someone hands you a supersuit and tells you to save the world, you don't think twice. When you're seventeen, and someone hands you a mask and tells you to be a hero, that's exactly what you do.


End file.
